Soul of Ice: deus ex machina
by The Other Nanashi
Summary: An unofficial alt-uni to Matt Lewis's Soul of Ice series. Ranma makes a different choice . . .


Rumiko Takahashi owns Ranma 1/2. Soul of Ice is a   
fanfiction that belongs to Matthew Lewis. What is   
original belongs to me. Influences? . . . Well, that's   
anyone's guess.  
  
[Special note: This fic's a one-shot, but I'm releasing it in   
two parts. For various personal reasons, the latter part   
hasn't been written yet. I feel that I need some response   
on this part to continue. Thank you for your time.]  
  
Strictly speaking, this is *not* an SoI story. I wanted it   
to be one, but it kinda . . . I dunno. Evolved, maybe. Got   
outta hand. It still possesses a lot of the characteristics   
you'd expect in one, but I won't bother to pretend that   
that's what it is. I wouldn't be lying if I said that Matt   
wrote most of the stuff here, except that he'd have my   
head on a platter if I did. There's stuff in here he doesn't   
agree to.  
  
I'm gonna settle for this fic being "inspired" by SoI,   
though if you're familiar with SoI, you'll see some . . . er,   
things you've seen before. All due credit is given. Give   
praise to Matt. The insults come to me (though I'd   
appreciate it if someone could give me a few comments).  
  
Nevermind all that for now. Let's get this straight:   
  
1) This is a piece of utterly inferior writing. It's probably   
not presentable enough to see the light of day. I tried my   
best. Don't kill me over it.  
  
2) It's also an altverse, though the only difference I can   
think of is Tofu's age.  
  
3) You *don't* need to read all of SoI to understand this   
fic. All that's needed is Point and Counterpoint.  
  
Be warned.   
  
This isn't a darkfic . . . is it?  
  
MST is welcome. So are Cs. Have fun ^_^  
  
SeventhOne  
nanashi96@hotmail.com  
Nanashi in #fanfic on the Newberry chatserver  
  
***  
Previously:  
See Matthew Lewis's Soul of Ice: Point + Counterpoint.   
http://www.tass.org/fanfic/Soul-of-Ice/  
  
***  
  
Soul of Ice: deus ex machina  
(unofficial alt-universe)  
Begun: 12/21/1999  
Draft I: 09/13/2000  
Draft II: 11/22/2000  
Draft III: 12/2/2000  
Final Draft: pending revision  
  
*  
  
deus ex machina  
Mist is welcome. So are Seas.  
  
***  
Prologue: Soft Rains Falling  
"The path of the Soft Rains is not to fight the ones who   
oppose you, but to seek a way to soften their resolve, to   
come to an agreement. It is a path to the future, a vision   
of what is to come."  
  
***  
  
The night tells a thousand stories in its own language.   
Sometimes the words are musical . . .  
  
Only sometimes.  
  
The ones in this story are not. These words came out of   
some jagged maw in the nether regions of gray at the   
edge of the darkness. The butchered remains of what   
was once a voice only barely get the story across.   
  
This I beg of you, though: listen.   
  
The cacophony that is the story still has a tune to it. If   
sung through the right mouth, in the right language, with   
the right tones, you can still hear it. It's not gone yet . . .  
  
Listen . . .  
  
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss  
Nanashimanga presents  
An unofficial SoI alt . . .  
  
S - d - O - e - U - u - L - s  
[sOul Of iCe]  
o - E - f - X - X - f - E - o  
[deus EX machina]  
I - ma - C - chi - E - na - 74  
  
"They're all alone in this together."  
  
A Ranma 1/2 Fanfiction  
by SeventhOne  
ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss  
  
1  
-- The Forgotten --  
Happosai & Cologne  
  
***  
08/01/1995  
[Happosai - the yasha-ou]  
  
In the beginning, there was a grand idea, all drawn out   
and complex and well-thought-out and whatnot.   
Thousands of ideas fit this description.  
  
"Why Ranma?"  
  
In the beginning, they say. Yes.  
  
"Because he's the best of this generation. The best of a   
lot of generations."  
  
The "in the beginning" thing has been around since the   
dawn of time, and it's been used Natasha knows how   
many times since. The idea's always there, and it's   
always been drawn out and complex and   
well-thought-out. Never otherwise.  
  
"What do you want?"  
  
And you know what?  
  
"Not all people want, Happosai. I'm merely doing this to   
ensure the survival of my school beyond me. What is   
your goal?"  
  
There's always a flaw. Always.  
  
"Anything Goes. Have you heard of the term   
individualism? That's what I want for Ranma. I want him   
to live his life to the fullest."  
  
Like take the monothe-whachamacallit-thingamajig for   
example. *The* God ('cause they only have one) creates   
this entire world, all perfect and worked out and happy.   
He even puts people on it, yeah?  
  
"Bullshit. Lies. It's a waste of talent, and you know it.   
You are merely destroying his potential. And for what?   
Your own lusts and perversions. Nothing more."  
  
And he just *had* to put in the little green snake.   
Nothing's perfect.  
  
"Yeah? You know what you're doing? You're turning   
him into a machine! That's what you're doing!"  
  
The thing is, the thing is, there's always one little thing   
missing to every grand idea. The little mistake that you   
just thought you were clever enough to manipulate. You   
know what? One little mistake, and the whole thing   
unravels before your eyes like a ball of pantyhose.  
  
"I'm doing no such thing. The Soul of Ice is a capability   
only humans have. It is what separates us from animals.   
To use it absolutely is to be absolutely human."  
  
Most people just call it a "critical mistake," whatever   
that means. Well-educated folks call it "the Seed of   
Doubt." I doubt the little green snake appreciates that.   
The old Chinese called it Tao. Or at least an aspect of   
Tao . . .  
  
"It's against the way of nature. It's an abomination. If   
that's what being a human is, I'd rather be called an   
animal."  
  
But then, they call everything an aspect of Tao, so it   
really doesn't matter . . .  
  
"I see no point in continuing this conversation, then.   
Goodbye."  
  
The boy must not join her cause. *Must* not.  
  
"Yeah! Go on old hag. Run away from what you can't   
face, eh!"  
  
And the hag's losing. There's something wrong with her   
plan, see? She just doesn't know it yet.   
  
"You stupid woman! Get outta here and don't come back!"  
  
You know the flaw to it? The flaw to her plan? Too   
much of the so-called "control" stuff. She assumes that   
just 'cause she's been making events around the boy tend   
towards chaos since she first met him, the boy'll go her   
way. Need to control your life, yeah?  
  
Nuh-uh. No sir, that's not gonna happen.  
  
"You hear me, you!"  
  
She's forgetting something. In order for the boy to go to   
her, he has to do it because it's the greater of his two   
desires.   
  
And if I suggest that he remembers to let his desires   
drive him, he'll do it, because he's that kinda guy. He'll   
come back. Just you wait and see . . .  
  
And you know the best part?  
  
"Oiii!!!"  
  
The best part is, *I'm* not truly exercising any control   
over him. It's *his* own free will!   
  
Ha! I'm just soooo good . . .  
  
"Gone . . . Bitch."  
  
***  
08/01/1995  
[Cologne - the ice]  
  
You think you've got me, eh? You're wrong, old fool.   
Just because Ranma exercises free will in the act of   
coming to me means nothing. Control takes account of   
all things, emotions or not.  
  
***  
08/25/1995  
[Happosai - the yasha-ou]  
  
In his dream, Happosai backed away from the thing that   
stared at him, his movements sickeningly slow, his body   
unable to escape his fear of the thing with the piercing   
white eyes. He felt his back against the wall . . .  
  
And then?  
  
And then it wasn't a wall anymore. Perhaps it had never   
been, and he had only thought it was. It oozed like the   
darkness that he imagined lurking somewhere in the   
depths of the night. He slid slowly to the floor, unable to   
move in his fear.  
  
The ooze had covered his hand, and he raised it to see   
what it was.   
  
Red.   
  
Blood.   
  
Cold as ice.  
  
And then he noticed that the room was not as black as he   
had originally thought it was. The darkness was the   
natural dark that came with the night.   
  
The black was . . .  
  
The black was what remained of his parents. Their blood   
and guts, rendered paste by whatever technique the thing   
in front of him had used.  
  
His fingers had numbed in the sudden coldness of the   
room, and he was shivering, grabbing himself by the   
shoulders and trying to warm himself, without success.   
He couldn't feel his body.  
  
"Wh . . . who are you," he asked, barely overcoming the   
cold. "What are you doing?"  
  
"I am merely eliminating threats, child."  
  
"Mo-mother and fa-father never did an-anything to you!"  
  
"They might have done something."  
  
And the white eyes glowed brighter.  
  
"And so might you."  
  
And it started coming closer . . .  
  
Happosai woke, shivering.   
  
". . . That dream again."  
  
Ranma . . .  
  
***  
  
deus ex machina  
Mist is welcome. So are Seas.  
  
New Latin,: a god from a machine   
(translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs)  
  
***  
Chapter I: Storm  
"The first part of learning the Soul of Ice is the   
preparation of bodily control skills . . . fast paced lessons   
are executed to instill the skills upon the student."  
  
*  
  
2  
-- The Chosen --  
Saotome Ranma & Tendo Akane  
  
***  
12/21/2011  
[the mother]  
  
"Mama? Can you tell me that story about the samurai   
again? I wanna hear it."  
  
"Yes, dear."  
  
"Yay!! Thanks, Mama!"  
  
The child ran off to his room, giggling as he went. The   
mother followed.  
  
"Shinta-chan?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, Mama?"  
  
"Why do you keep asking me for this one story? Is it   
your favorite?"  
  
"Yep! I love this story!"  
  
The mother smiled as she sat down besides the child on   
his bed.  
  
"C'mon, Mama. Can you begin?"  
  
For a moment, she let a tinge of sadness touch her   
eyebrows. Then it was gone.  
  
"Today I'll tell you a different story," she said.  
  
"Does it have the samurai in it?"  
  
"Yes, it does."  
  
"Okay, then!"  
  
"Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a   
samurai . . ."  
  
[And the night wind whistled its tune across the   
rooftops . . .]  
  
***  
  
Imagine that there is fork in the road, which is at the   
same time a split between opposing branches on the   
same tree. How many paths do you see?  
  
***  
  
Saotome Ranma  
  
I: Process Initiation  
  
Points:  
1) The subject will begin thinking about his current   
situation and what lies ahead for him in his future.  
2) Forced on to the defensive, H. will attempt to interfere   
with the situation.  
3) With pressure from both sides, the subject will make   
the choice.   
4) Given the state of the subject as of the compilation of   
this paper, there is approximately a 75% chance he will   
choose this process as opposed to H.'s.  
  
***  
08/06/1995  
[Ranma - the boy]  
  
I've made my choice. I'm not going to change it.  
  
Yes . . . but . . .  
  
But can I tell her this? Can I tell her who I'm going to   
train with?  
  
Yes. It's . . . possible. I've come this far. I'm standing   
outside her door, reading her sign.   
  
A - ka - ne . . .  
  
Am I strong enough?  
  
A Saotome never backs down.  
  
Will I say something . . . stupid?  
  
I . . . she'll probably think that I'm just making another   
excuse to see Shampoo . . .  
  
Will she hit me?  
  
It doesn't hurt. It never did. The pain is that she . . .  
  
. . . reached out her hand, offering it to me.  
  
"Do you want to be friends?" she had asked.  
  
"Yes," I had answered.  
  
And that was all that I could ever hope for. A friend . . .  
  
What of Hiroshi and Daisuke . . . ?  
  
No. They're just people who hang around me. To them,   
I'm just one of the guys, even if I'm a little different.  
  
What about Ukyou?  
  
Our friendship was long ago. It's changed since. She's   
gotten a little too close for comfort.  
  
Ryouga?  
  
He was never my friend to begin with.   
  
"I'll kill you, Ranma!"  
  
No, definitely not.  
  
But a true friend . . . not only that, a life in which such a   
friendship could last. A life in which I couldn't be called   
"dishonorable," couldn't be called a "pervert," at least not   
for the things I'd done and had been through. I want to   
control my life. I don't want to be called things I'm not.  
  
It's my only desire. My one and only.  
  
"Our style . . . what we practice . . ." the old man's words   
had been. "Our philosophy is to enjoy ourselves. We use   
what makes us happy to become better martial artists.   
Your father knew this, once. He created a set of   
techniques based upon getting things from people. I,   
well, you know about my focus."  
  
Desire.  
  
Desire for control . . .  
  
"Good, good, child! And what is the soul of ice but   
control? Being in command of yourself, your emotions,   
and your opponent, leading him or her through the   
spiral," Cologne had said.  
  
Control.   
  
And then Akane's words came back to him, from the first   
day.  
  
"I would hate it if I lost to a boy."  
  
It had hurt.  
  
I can't tell her.  
  
Desire? Control?  
  
He turned from Akane's door, and started down the hall.  
  
"Ranma."  
  
He turned. Happosai.  
  
"You've chosen, then?" asked the old man, looking a bit   
sad.  
  
"Yes," answered Ranma.  
  
"And you're going to her?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You're not gonna reconsider?"  
  
Ranma looked down at his feet.  
  
"I want control of my life," he answered. "It's my only   
true desire."  
  
Happosai remained silent.  
  
"This is something I have to do, Happosai. I just want a   
normal life. I need to control myself, control the   
situation. It can't go on like this."  
  
He looked at the old man.  
  
"I don't know if what I'm doing is right. I intend to do it   
anyway."  
  
Happosai looked him in the eye.  
  
"I can't stop you, then."  
  
"No."  
  
The old man sighed.  
  
"I couldn't, even if I really wanted you to stay. It's your   
desire, and I have no right to interfere."  
  
Ranma turned away to leave.  
  
"Wait, boy."  
  
He stopped, facing away from the old man.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I want you to remember something. There's only so   
much that I can do for you once you've left."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
He didn't see Happosai smile. It wasn't the normal kind   
of smile Happosai usually had. It was . . . sad . . .   
  
No, Ranma never saw.  
  
He felt it.  
  
"I want you to remember this," said Happosai. "No   
matter what you do, where you are, always ask yourself   
this question: Is this really what I want?"  
  
"Is this really what I want . . . ?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I . . . thanks."  
  
Ranma took a step forward, into the shadows of the hall.  
  
"Goodbye."  
  
***  
  
"Why is he thinking?"  
  
"He isn't exactly thinking. At least, not as we would. On   
his part, he's merely reacting to the situation. The   
thoughts are relatively simple, and he's merely deciding   
what it is he's going to do."  
  
"But he is thinking. I mean, not much, but he is."  
  
"Well, yes. The encounter has made him think a little.   
Like you said, not much."  
  
"Seems a bit angsty, though."  
  
"Indecision isn't angst."  
  
"A boy makes his choice, and his fate forever   
changes . . . Years later, a young mother tells the tale of   
the choice to her child . . . Where's the connection?"  
  
"You tell me."  
  
"Why here? Why now?"  
  
"Once upon a time, this place had another name. For   
now, it will be called Nerima. It is where the horses are   
trained."  
  
***  
08/06/1995  
[Ranma - the boy]  
  
The door opened.  
  
"We closed now. Come back tomorrow," answered   
Shampoo before she realized who it was she was talking   
to.  
  
Shampoo's face lit up with a smile as she saw who it   
was. He was here . . .  
  
"I need to speak with Cologne, Shampoo," Ranma said.  
  
She answered with a sigh, and opened the door.  
  
"Hello, Ranma," Cologne said, atop her staff. "Is this a   
social visit, or do you have some other reason?"  
  
"I got an answer for you, old ghoul," Ranma said.  
  
A grin spread upon Cologne's face.  
  
"Yes," said Ranma.  
  
***  
12/21/2011  
[the mother]  
  
"And what did the Holy Person teach him, Mama?"  
  
The mother smiled at the child and touched his nose.  
  
"It would give you nightmares if I told you," she said.  
  
"Hey! No fair! C'mon! Tell me, mama!"  
  
She sighed in defeat.  
  
***  
08/08/1995  
[Ranma - the boy]  
  
"We'll begin your training with lessons in involuntary   
muscle control, Ranma. Close your eyes."  
  
Ranma nodded and did so.  
  
"Good. Now, try to slow your heart down. Picture it in   
your mind, pulsing regularly, pumping out life and   
energy to your body. Let it rest and . . ."  
  
***  
  
II: Bodily Control  
  
Points:  
1) The subject complies with standards of physical   
healthiness prerequisite to starting the process.  
2) The subject will complete general physical training   
within a few days of starting.  
3) The subject will enter the Bodily Control Sequence   
immediately after preparation is complete.  
4) The BC-Sequence will require the subject to   
encounter and subdue the various undesirable elements   
of his subconscious before completion is allowed.  
5) Upon completion, the subject is deemed fit to   
continue into the Emotional Control Sequence.  
  
***  
12/21/2011  
[the mother]  
  
"And the Holy Person showed the Samurai the way to   
the land of demons. She told him, 'Fight them, become   
their master. When you have succeeded, they will show   
you the way out."  
  
"What'd he do then, Mommy?"  
  
"He fought. He made the demons his servants, and they   
helped him make his way through the land. Finally,   
when the last demon had become his servant, the door to   
the land opened again, and the demons led him to it, and   
let him out."  
  
"They didn't eat him, did they? Did they follow him   
out?"  
  
The mother smiled.  
  
"No, Shinta-chan. When the Samurai came out of the   
door, the demons wanted to follow him. When they tried,   
though, he stopped them. He told them that their own   
world was their home, and that as their master, he   
forbade them from doing so."  
  
"So the Samurai left them behind?"  
  
"Yes. He left his demons behind, and then he stepped   
into the light."  
  
The child remain quiet for a moment, apparently   
thinking. Then he smiled.  
  
"Hmph, that wasn't so scary," the child said, proud that   
he wasn't afraid.  
  
"Nope. But this is --"   
  
The young mother giggled as she tickled her child and   
watched him laugh and squirm, trying to escape her   
fingers.  
  
Somewhere within her, she wished it could last forever.  
  
***  
09/13/1995  
[Ranma - the boy]  
  
"Are you willing to do anything to achieve your goal?"  
  
Do I want this?  
  
"Anything at all?"  
  
Is this really what I want?  
  
"Are you willing to go to Hell and return?"  
  
Really?  
  
"Yes."  
  
***  
09/14/1995  
[Ranma - the program]  
  
Blackness beyond black. He could see nothing at all, not   
even black itself. Had it been merely his imagination?   
Did black really exist?  
  
where am I, asked the mind. am I dead?  
  
"No, Ranma, you're not dead."  
  
huh? who are You?  
  
"You don't need to worry about that now. You do have to   
worry about regaining your body."  
  
body? I have a body?  
  
"Yes, Ranma. This is part of your training. I've isolated   
your mind from your body. You must now regain control   
of it. Learn to use every muscle, every cell, and every   
nerve. When you've mastered control of everything, you   
will have learned to fully use your body. You will know   
every aspect of it, and you will not forget."  
  
will I be able to leave here, then?  
  
"Yes, but only if you do so quickly."  
  
why? will something bad happen to me if I don't?  
  
" . . . You'll cease to exist."  
  
I . . . see. I'll disappear, right?  
  
"Yes."  
  
I don't wanna disappear. I'll find my body.  
  
"Yes . . . you will . . ."  
  
***  
12/06/1995  
[the beast]  
  
"I expect you'll want to know why I've brought you   
here," said the voice.  
  
Tug. An attempt to rip the hands away from the knot.   
Failure.  
  
"You're here because a fate has been planned for you. In   
five hours, you shall cease to exist."  
  
Repeat attempt. Failure.  
  
"You will disappear. A creature of pure desire will   
replace you."  
  
An attempt to scream. Failure.  
  
"You shall become the heir to your family style."  
  
Shaking. An attempt to break away from the hold of the   
rope again. Failure.  
  
"And then, he shall be mine."  
  
The change took place. A ripple, no larger than one that   
would have been caused by a pebble thrown into a pond,   
spread through the mind.  
  
Then, suddenly, without warning, the mind was torn   
apart. Consciousness and unconsciousness mingled and   
mixed, and the emotions usually bound down by   
common sense ran free.   
  
From every thought, an interpretation of a different   
memory arose, and a thousand facets of a single event   
clashed with a thousand others. Urges and desires played   
together with loves and hates.  
  
Somewhere, something awoke.  
  
A creature rose from the sea of thoughts and memories.   
A primal creature, with primal urges. It drank the sea   
that gave it birth, swallowed it whole and made the   
watery depths part of itself.  
  
And then it had a purpose. It knew what it had to do.  
  
He was gonna die.  
  
***  
10/05/1995  
[Ranma - the program]  
  
Them. virus  
cat.exe  
need to get away The Pain  
  
get Them away. i can't . . . Pain  
  
need to get away   
Hurts  
  
breath. need to get away   
the PAIN  
  
They are coming   
for me.  
  
with every breath the Pain  
  
need to Get away from   
ME  
  
coming The Pain is Here.  
  
GET AWAY FROM me!!  
  
coming From me  
  
need to GET AWAY! from me!!!!  
Them is here. Them is   
me.  
Here.  
  
i cannot escape from Them because they are ME.  
  
curiosity executed the cat  
  
They have gotten here. They are everywhere. They are  
inside.  
  
GET AWAY!!! can't  
  
They are grasping at me,   
Clawing, Eating me from the   
I Nside.  
  
NEED to get away  
  
I am Eating me  
  
Them.  
  
***  
  
"Back to my point, look at everyone else who practices   
Anything Goes, and what do you see? Excess. A lack of   
control. They cannot see beyond their baggage. Akane   
was with us when you learned the Hiryu Shoten Ha. She   
heard what you heard, saw what you saw. How come she   
never learned the move then?"  
  
Do you hear the madness?  
  
***  
10/20/1995  
[Ranma - the program]  
  
[Ranma . . .]  
  
This is the me that might have been.  
  
[lifted himself out of the waters . . .]  
  
This is the me that might still be.  
  
[and onto the ice shelf. Antarctica was under the cloak of   
night, and would remain so for several months . . .]  
  
And if I let the ice claim my soul, this is all that will ever   
be. Coldness, wind, and snow. This might be my life.  
  
[A small effort was all it took for Ranma to dry himself,   
a brief thought and a pulse of ki.]  
  
Power? Yes, there's power there. Or maybe not. This me   
really has nothing that I don't have right now.  
  
[He did not feel the cold, which could not ever hope to   
match the absoluteness of the one inside of him.]  
  
All there is is hot and cold, and all the various states of   
existence in between. The only difference between these   
states is the degree to which I can use my potential   
abilities.  
  
[He made his way farther south, deeper and deeper over   
the glacier . . .]  
  
The ice is unchanging, unyielding. The vacuum of   
emotion within this me will never be eroded. And this   
me will never melt. Never die.  
  
[past all life and all human outposts . . .]  
  
And there is no humanity left. Humanity has been   
passed, transcended.  
  
[There came a time when Ranma sat down cross-legged   
and tilted his head upwards to look at the cold sky and   
the remote stars which populated it.]  
  
What is the point? Is this the goal I have strived to   
achieve? Is this what I'll get for my efforts?  
  
[Would any of them figure out what he meant by the   
"south, where it is cold?" Would any of them want to   
come, even if they did figure it out?]  
  
And having left humanity behind, will this me have a   
purpose for existence? Is this what I want?  
  
[It did not matter, Ranma was sufficient to deal with the   
situation if they came or if they did not . . .]  
  
Is this what I really want?  
  
No.  
  
***  
  
They are called the yasha, the demons of the night. They   
come bearing no good will, and their purpose is   
mischief. What sort of mischief, do you ask? Chaos,   
pain, hatred, sin, darkness, perversion, and all the darker   
elements of humanity. Why do they do it? For pleasure.   
They exist as a dark reflection of man, as the servants of   
entropy. They exist to erode the sanctuary called   
civilization.  
  
Man is not a thing of nature. Man is a perversion of   
nature that arose of nature's randomness. Nature is   
self-correcting. Man is an error. The yasha exist as a   
consequence of this force of correction. They exist   
because they should, because nature dictates that they   
should. Never because man wants them to.  
  
And yet . . .  
  
Somewhere in the night, a young yasha is born, and the   
king of the yasha mourns for a child that died in its birth.   
It was never meant to be like this.  
  
Never.  
  
***  
12/07/1995  
[the beast]  
  
The eyes were glowing red.   
  
That much the man could see. He gasped a bit, and   
swallowed the saliva in his mouth, the terror widening   
his eyes and causing him to sweat cold in the winter   
wind that poured through the alleyway. This was not   
what he'd been expecting.  
  
He straightened his disheveled clothes enough to allow   
slightly more ease of movement, and he began backing   
away from the glow.  
  
"L-look," he said rather shakily, "I don't know what I've   
done to piss you off, but I thought we agreed to doing   
this."  
  
The man couldn't believe this was the same person he'd   
talked to just a few minutes ago. It . . . it wasn't a person   
anymore. It looked totally different, like some kind of   
monster.  
  
"Why? Why do you wanna kill me? I've been nothing   
but nice to you."  
  
The eyes came a step closer.  
  
"Oh my god."  
  
***  
  
The beast laughed, the beast cried, and the beast soared   
through the night sky, screaming in the joy of such   
freedom. And the beast would hunt. There were preys   
everywhere. Slipping amongst them was so easy . . .  
  
The beast licked its fingers of the warm blood that   
covered them. The torn corpse of the woman that lay at   
its feet was no longer moving. The beast smiled. It   
lowered itself to the corpse and opened its mouth. It bit   
down on the flesh and tore away, savoring the taste of   
the meat.   
  
. . . The beast wondered for a moment what being a   
human was like . . .  
  
And then as quickly as the thought had come, it left, and   
the beast continued onwards, searching for fresh, sweet   
female meat to feast upon.   
  
Who cares what food thinks about before it dies?  
  
The beast giggled in delight.  
  
And Tofu slept in peace, in his room, after having fallen   
asleep reading a medical text. Outside the window,   
predatory eyes watched his sleeping form.  
  
***  
10/25/1995  
[Ranma - the program]  
  
[Ranma stood up. The walls trembled as such a sight. He   
had a room to himself now, just like Happousai did.   
Genma bunked with Soun, too afraid of his son to spend   
the night in the same room.]  
  
This is the me that might have been.  
  
[No one would look at Ranma anymore-- no one could.   
The was something indefinite about him now; a peculiar   
lack of sharpness or a blurriness which made it nearly   
impossible for someone to really make out any of his   
features, even as he slept. The effect extended to   
whatever clothes Ranma wore.]  
  
This is the me that might never be.  
  
["i'M g oI n G oUT !noW" Ranma announced to the   
air, not caring if anyone else heard and knowing that   
they all did. His voice was out of synch with his lips, or   
would be, if one concentrated enough and looked at his   
mouth as he talked.]  
  
This is the happiness that I'll never know. This is the   
happiness that comes of touching the sky.  
  
[Ranma left his room in a state of disrepair and extreme   
mess: unmade bed (futon, really), clothes scattered   
across the floor, both clean and dirty, an odd selection of   
broken sea-shells and strange rocks, and an alarm clock   
turned on its side.]  
  
Carefree, in a land that has eternal summer, in a place   
where the sea breeze blows, and the skies are blue and   
run forever. Where the windows are open, and sun is   
always just right.  
  
[He stalked down the streets, owning them completely--   
not heeding the multitude of small pot-holes. Giggling   
hysterically, Ranma suddenly leapt onto the side of a   
wall and started running, leaving patternless tracks along   
the surface as he made his way. Whooping with glee,   
Ranma spiraled off the wall and back onto the ground.]  
  
But . . .  
  
But these desires aren't mine. Mine lie elsewhere. There   
are certain things I want to do. This is not what I want.  
  
[Happosai zoomed by, a large bag of underwear   
-- liberated -- from the young women who recently wore   
them on his back. Said women were in the process of   
chasing Happosai, who found himself stopped in   
mid-flight by Ranma's hand, who caught him.]  
  
Whatever happiness that I might find in this life does not   
arise from the full achievement of my goals and desires.  
  
["Why did you do that, student?"]  
  
They arise from the ignorance of such desires. Though   
they are my true goal, these desires that I wish to fulfill   
are ones from which pain might come. The me that is in   
this life has forever escaped from the pain.   
  
This is not what I want to do.  
  
I have done what I have done because I require it of   
myself. It is something I owe me, and I will finish what I   
have started.  
  
["'fected-- technique! ;nOt STudent? trAINing   
coMPLeTe, now." Ranma's voice echoed in his chest,   
creating strange resonances.]  
  
This is an extreme: the final happiness that comes with   
such a thing as death. The me that is in this life has   
achieved the happiness in living, and all is well.  
  
["Well what are you going to do?"]  
  
The me that has embraced the ice is another extreme: the   
lack of feelings, and hence the lack of motivation. The   
me in that life has died. That me has achieved death in   
life. There is no happiness.  
  
["Japan, Tendos, Nerima. Small too for me."]  
  
The world is a huge place. I should not limit myself.  
  
["Where will you go?" Happousai shouted just as Ranma   
was about to disappear from sight.]  
  
I will go where I need to go . . .  
  
[Ranma turned around. For a brief moment, he was clear   
and defined again. "To have some fun, of course!" was   
the shouted reply. A shudder, a shimmer and Ranma was   
gone -- into the wilds, into the world.]  
  
I will do what I need to do.  
  
***  
  
"They're wrong about you; she's wrong about you,   
Ranma -- Akane's wrong! You're not the pervert, her   
family is!"   
  
Happousai's face contorted with a brief spasm   
of rage.   
  
"The Tendos have perverted my school. It was   
never meant like that. They aren't practicing Anything   
Goes, but instead some mockery of it!"  
  
"The Tendos -- Soun isn't a practitioner. What does he   
do but sit around and mope and cry at the least little   
thing? He gets no joy from his tears, only more tears and   
more heartache. If he ever learned the Shishi hokoudan I   
would actually be worried about him . . ."  
  
"Akane . . .bah! She barely practices. Protest as much as   
she wants, whine as much as she wants, but you know as   
well as I that she's not one of us; Akane is not really a   
martial artist. She doesn't have the commitment to the   
Art it takes. Would she give her life over to the Art, like   
you have, like you would? Hah! Never. She would never   
consider that. She doesn't even regularly practice   
anymore. You know this at least as well as I do, I know   
you do."  
  
***  
  
deus ex machina  
Mist is welcome. So are Seas.  
  
New Latin,: a god from a machine   
(translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs)  
  
1) a god introduced by means of a crane in ancient Greek   
and Roman drama to decide the final outcome  
  
2) a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears   
or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides   
a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty  
  
***  
Chapter II: Wind and Mist  
"The second part of the Soul of Ice training is the   
learning of the Wind and Mist technique. Originally,   
the Wind and Mist technique was developed to give   
the user absolute control of the mind and body. Hundreds   
of years of research, however, have shown it to be   
inadequate. While it does confer absolute control of the   
body, it cannot control the stronger emotions of the   
mind . . . "  
  
***  
10/27/1995  
[Ranma - the program]  
  
["Younger men bore me . . . I'm sure Akane would be   
interested."]  
  
This is the me that might still be. Selfishness in sacrifice.  
  
["That's a good boy." . . . pat on the back.]  
  
This is the me that might have been. Spiteful modesty.   
Uncontrolled control.  
  
[Above the fray . . . above the chaos. Not having   
transcended humanity, but having accepted everything   
and living on.]  
  
This is the me that I want to be.  
  
[And yet, I still fail to describe the smile. It's like . . .   
sunlight compressed, and the literal brightness replaced   
with the brightness of emotion . . .]  
  
This is the smile I seek to find, the light that I wish to   
witness.  
  
[For now, I am satisfied. Life is good. My sisters have   
turned out well. Father is happy. I'm proud of what I've   
accomplished.]  
  
This is the pride that I wish to feel, the satisfaction that   
comes of giving.  
  
[Such is the nature of joy.]  
  
Is this what I really want?  
  
[Such is the nature of joy.]  
  
This is the me I wish . . .  
  
***  
11/08/1995  
[Ranma - the machine]  
  
Time passes like wind and mist . . .  
  
How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? Maybe   
months? I can't tell exactly.  
  
I can remember now. I've retaken my mind. Akane.   
Friendship . . . and the pain of chaos . . . It's been exactly   
a month since I regained my memory.  
  
I'm happy because I've learned to do something new. I   
can build another me within my own mind. I can now   
work on four or five different fronts at once.  
  
Getting the vital organs back online comes first, of   
course. I've retaken the cells of most of them, but some   
damage has been done. I know now what Cologne meant   
when she said that I'd cease to exist if I didn't work   
quickly enough. Flesh has a tendency to deteriorate   
when cut off from the system of the body.  
  
Regeneration . . .  
  
I'm not really working right now. Or rather, I am,   
because the other me's that are working are me, too.   
That's besides the point right now.  
  
I'm thinking . . .  
  
Is this really what I want?  
  
Yes. At least up until I finish retaking my body and   
fixing it up. But the next step . . .  
  
Akane's door. A - ka - ne.  
  
I've come this far. I haven't lost my mind to the challenge   
of regaining my body yet. I'm surprised that I've been   
able to retake my mind without going mad . . .  
  
I've relived every second of it, every memory, every dream . . .   
  
Mother.   
  
I remember your face now . . . You look like me when   
I'm a girl, except that you're much more mature than I   
am. I wish I knew you.   
  
I wish that I were like you . . .  
  
And I remember that promise.  
  
That stupid, stupid promise that I didn't even remember   
up until now. I wish that I didn't remember it . . .  
  
You won't hate me, will you? You won't really kill me   
because part of me is a girl?  
  
You won't, will you?  
  
I know that you were horrified when Oyaji wrote up that   
stupid promise thing. I know that you told him you   
wouldn't put your own child to death. Have you   
changed?  
  
You haven't changed, have you?   
  
I hope you haven't. I don't want you to have to kill me. I   
can die for you at any time you wish, but I don't want   
*you* to want to kill me . . .   
  
Because part of me is a girl. Mind and body. It's one of   
the things I've learned. There's really no line between   
what a person wants to be and what a person is. The only   
difference is knowledge.  
  
Part of me wants to be like Kasumi. She's a sort of a role   
model for me . . .  
  
I know how to be like her. I know what it is to be like   
her because I've observed her going about on her   
business. It's just that up until now, I've never   
remembered doing it.  
  
I have her skills. I can cook everything she can, and I   
can keep the house clean, and I know the house just like   
she does, and I can support my family if I lost a   
mother . . .   
  
And I would always be happy if people just treated me   
like they do her.   
  
They don't.  
  
I mean, she has to be stressed out, too. I know it. I've   
seen it on her face.   
  
She's so strong . . .  
  
I'll be strong, too . . .  
  
I . . . really hate to say this, but I've just found out   
something . . .  
  
Akane loves me.  
  
I . . . never really noticed before.  
  
Yeah, I mean, I like her, but . . .  
  
I just want to be her friend. I don't want her loving me.   
Friendship is enough.  
  
I just want a friend. One. That's enough if I can't get any   
more.  
  
It doesn't have to be Akane. I don't wanna be friends   
with her, if possible. It'd hurt her to know that I don't   
love her back for what emotions she has for me. But . . .  
  
But, will it hurt her more if I just leave? I've hurt her too   
much already . . .  
  
And what of Ukyou and Shampoo?  
  
Shampoo's just bound to me by law . . . not to mention,   
her lust . . . she'll grow out of it.  
  
Ukyou . . . I'm not the little boy you once knew. Can you   
accept who I am now?  
  
Help me, mother. What can I do? Akane . . .  
  
***  
11/08/1995  
[Ranma - the machine]  
  
The tear came from his eye.  
  
Cologne watched as it rolled down the side of his face   
and on to the ground.  
  
Emotions . . .  
  
Would he last this part?  
  
Probably. He was making good progress.  
  
What of the next?  
  
She knew that part of him would probably die. It was the   
way the technique was designed. Was he strong enough   
to survive it?  
  
"Akane . . ."  
  
The emotions would have to go.  
  
***  
11/30/1995  
[Ranma - the machine]  
  
Ranma opened his eyes slowly.  
  
"You're awake, Ranma," said Cologne.  
  
He stared up at the ceiling of the cave.  
  
"Yes," he said. "I'm awake."  
  
Cologne smiled briefly.   
  
"Are you ready for the next part?"  
  
"No . . . not yet. Give me some time. I need to think   
about a few things."  
  
Cologne eyed him. Yes, he did deserve some rest.  
  
"Alright, but don't take too long. I'll be back with some   
food in half an hour. Be ready."  
  
Ranma didn't respond. Cologne left him on the floor.  
  
"Is this really what I want?" he asked himself.  
  
When she returned, he had gone.  
  
***  
12/04/1995  
[Cologne - the ice]  
  
Four days. It's been four entire days. Ninety-six hours   
and he has not returned.  
  
I can imagine why. He's afraid of losing his emotions.   
He's afraid of losing his emotions for her.  
  
It's her.  
  
It has to be her.  
  
She's the only name Ranma spoke out loud during the   
entire Wind and Mist training.   
  
Akane.  
  
She's the one preventing him from accepting this   
technique.  
  
I'll get her out of the way.  
  
Anything goes, eh? Anything goes it is.  
  
Tendo Akane.  
  
***  
  
III: Recall  
  
Points:  
1) The subject has failed to comply with the expectations   
of the process. A recall sequence is necessary before the   
subject can enter the Emotional Control Sequence.  
2) A. will be instrumental to recall process. Data   
currently available for H's process will be evaluated and   
accelerated to prepare A. for encounter with subject.  
3) The subject's survival rate is currently projected to be   
75%. Given the subject's survival, the recall process will   
be complete.  
  
***  
12/21/2011  
[the mother]  
  
"And then? What happens after he leaves the demons?"  
  
"Well, do you really wanna hear it? It's kinda late, almost   
your bedtime."  
  
"Mommy! There's an hour left before nine o'clock!"  
  
The mother laughed.  
  
"Hm-hmm, when did you learn to read the clock,   
Shinta-chan?"  
  
"The teacher taught us last week," the child said,   
gleefully.  
  
"Is that so?" the mother pouted.  
  
"C'mon, tell me the rest of the story."  
  
"Okay, okay . . ."  
  
***  
  
my mother who i've seen not exists not  
my mother who i know not has face not  
my mother who is gone now was here not  
my mother who birthed me did birth not  
my mother who is not is . . .  
  
sister, mother of my heart  
  
***  
12/02/1995  
[Happosai - the yasha-ou]  
  
Happosai felt someone's presence appear on the roof   
behind him. He turned his attention away from the city   
nightline.  
  
"Hello, Happosai."  
  
"So you've come crawling back to me, Ranma."  
  
". . . Yes."  
  
"I take it the training didn't go well."  
  
"No . . . it went well. I just couldn't do it anymore."  
  
"What made you leave?"  
  
"You . . . Do you know about the pressure point attack   
called the Blizzard Fist?"  
  
Happosai widened his eyes.  
  
"You can't mean . . . No, she would never do that. You   
can't mean that it's part of her training process?"  
  
Ranma nodded.  
  
"So . . . you escaped before she could use it on you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Does she know what she's doing!? The Blizzard Fist   
burns out a person's emotions! Most people go mad   
when they get hit! It's forbidden, even for me!"  
  
"I know. She told me. She said I could survive it with my   
sanity intact using the Wind and Mist technique that   
she taught me."  
  
"She taught you that too!?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
Happosai sank to his knees.  
  
"Dear Traci Lords, I've underestimated how far she   
would go. If I knew she'd do something like this, I  
wouldn't have let you go to her. Those techniques . . .   
they were the reason martial arts fell from its original   
status in the first place. I can't allow this . . ."  
  
Ranma turned.  
  
"Don't blame yourself. It was my choice. I have to face   
the consequences. I just came to see how you all   
were . . ."  
  
He took a step.  
  
"I'm going back to tell her I cannot accept her school."  
  
And he began to leave.  
  
"No, wait! Don't go!"  
  
Ranma stopped.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because you won't return."  
  
"The Wind and Mist technique will protect me if she   
tries anything."  
  
"You have too much faith in yourself, boy. Don't you   
think she knew that?"  
  
"Yes, but . . ."  
  
"I know what you're gonna say, boy. The Blizzard Fist   
is the only attack she can successfully use against you,   
and you have protection, right? It doesn't matter. Yeah,   
the Blizzard Fist won't harm you physically. You'll   
even retain your sanity. You've forgotten one thing. You   
won't be the same person anymore. You won't be   
Ranma."  
  
"I can block pressure point attacks."  
  
"And then she'll just keep trying until she hits you."  
  
"I . . . I can't back down."  
  
"You can't go and face her!"  
  
"What am I gonna do, then?"  
  
Happosai looked back to the city.  
  
"Just wait. I'll think of something."  
  
Ranma didn't see the smile.  
  
***  
  
Yes, play the kind one. Be nice to him. She mustn't get   
him again.  
  
***  
12/06/1995  
[Kasumi - the mist]  
  
"Akane?" asked Kasumi from the stairs.  
  
No answer. Strange. Akane usually wasn't late for dinner   
unless something happened.  
  
"Akane?"  
  
And nothing had happened since Ranma had left to train,   
all those months ago. Well, other than the regular visitors   
coming to ask if Ranma had returned.  
  
"Akane? Are you there?"  
  
No answer. Kasumi made her way down the hall to   
Akane's room. Was the girl sleeping? Once more . . .  
  
"Akane? Are you alright?"  
  
Silence. Kasumi opened the door.  
  
Eyes widened.  
  
"Oh, my."  
  
Shreds. Debris. Chaos. There was almost nothing   
recognizable within Akane's room. It was like . . . it was   
like someone had released a whirlwind made of knives   
inside . . .  
  
And there was no sign of Akane.  
  
A page torn from a translation of an old Chinese martial   
arts novel drifted to the floor. A breeze entered from the   
open window, and the pages of a mythology textbook   
flipped . . .  
  
Kasumi took a step back.  
  
***  
12/07/1995  
[the beast]  
  
Hence speaks the Beast . . .  
  
Boreas of the North:  
Cold, clean, purifying.  
  
Zephyros of the West:  
Wild, dry, uncontrolled, corrupting.  
  
Notus of the South:  
Warm, humid, gentle, calming.  
  
Eurus of the East:  
A soft breeze . . .  
  
They are the Forgotten, the ones who have been   
forgotten by Death, by Time, and by the World. They are   
the messengers of another Age. They are the Dragons,   
the Just, the ones for which the Winds blow. They are the   
ones who Choose.  
  
"And the master told the student, 'You must face your   
final task. You must be put to the test.'"  
  
As it was written in the book I was reading before the   
Blizzard. What was the title again? I can't   
remember . . . it is part of what was lost.  
  
"And he said, 'Only then shall you be worthy to receive   
the title that you have strived to earn.'"  
  
And maybe then I shall truly get what I've strived for.   
Understanding. Complete and whole understanding.  
  
"And the student asked of his master, 'Shall I face the   
Eighteen?'"  
  
Shall I? The eighteenth? The boy who was once better   
than me? The one who left months ago to train to   
become the best? Shall I?   
  
"And the master answered. 'Yes.'"  
  
Yes. Only then shall the door to the eighteenth be open.  
  
When the door is open, the Blizzard will end, and I   
shall be free. I shall be free forever. Forever free of this   
darkness. I will reenter the world of Day. Until then . . .  
  
I am trapped . . .  
  
Have you seen it lately? The restaurant of the cats?   
There are many cats there now, because they like fresh   
meat . . .  
  
No, of course you haven't.   
  
There's a certain blurriness to it now that wasn't there   
before. And a sort of a darkness, and a stench of blood.   
You can't really see it . . . You can't even look at it for   
very long before your eyes begin to fill with tears.  
  
Maybe this is what they mean when they say "looking   
painful?"  
  
Maybe.  
  
The old lady who owned it closed the shop after telling   
her granddaughter to go train for several days. They're   
martial artists, see. The front door hasn't opened since.  
  
And now . . . now, there's something wrong . . .  
  
~It is a circle of dirt, the only part of the room not   
covered with the remains of the dead.~  
~IT sits at the center.~  
~This place was once a place of happiness.~  
~Now it has been stained with the blood of innocents.~  
  
Everyone has a favorite number. Mine is thirty-six.   
What's yours?   
  
Thirteen, because you wanna be freezing cold? Ten   
perhaps, like the number of sephira on the Caballic Tree   
of Life? Or maybe seven, like the Seven Deadly Sins?  
  
Three? The number of Fates?  
  
Four? The number of Death? The final Horseman?  
  
Or maybe, just maybe, you're into Buddhist mythology,   
and you like the number eighteen because that's the   
number of Guardian Monks the Buddha had?  
  
Oh, don't you know about them? The Eighteen   
Guardians, each from a different walk of life, each   
representing a different aspect of the natural way. They   
guarded the Buddha, yeah?  
  
Well, okay. So they're not common knowledge. See,   
think about them like this. They're metaphors, not real   
people. They exist only as parallels to the different   
aspects of life, yeah? Since the Buddha *is* the ultimate   
way of life, the idea is, you pass through all these   
aspects, and you get to him when you're through. They're   
like gates. Or gatekeepers. Or whatever.   
  
The story goes, in the old Shaolin temples, you had to   
pass through one final test before you could attain any   
high status. What was it? Yep, you guessed it. The Trial   
of the Eighteen Bronze Men. Three guesses for the   
reason behind the number.   
  
And yet, those old Shaolin Monks knew a bit of the   
truth. Eighteen is a trial everyone has to face.  
  
Some people take the number more seriously than   
others . . .  
  
What's your favorite number?  
  
Two days ago . . .  
Yes, it was two days ago . . .  
Or was it eighteen?  
Eighteen.  
Eighteen years.  
One more year to go. One more thing to do. One more   
person to destroy. Then . . . the sky.  
Eighteen years till freedom.  
One more person before eighteen. Seventeen perfectly   
normal people who didn't know me till I met them.   
Seventeen people who died at my hands. Seventeen   
people who are now within me, part of me forever.  
One more person to go before the circle is complete. One   
more before I become the master. One more before my   
nest is finished.  
The egg cracks . . .  
Is this how Kuno feels?  
It is the year nineteen-hundred and ninety-five.   
Eighteen years till the freedom that comes of maturity.  
Maybe . . . the ancient dragon arises from the deep to   
hatch its egg . . .  
The egg of the ancient dragon . . .  
Is it hatching?  
. . . enlighten . . . elighten . . . eighten . . .  
eighteen . . .  
Ranma is the final door. Ranma is the key to the lock.  
Eighteen years till the choice.  
Life. Happiness.  
Is the child stillborn?  
The choice.  
The child has died.  
Cologne. She's the one. She gave me the *other* key.   
She gave me the Blizzard.  
I cut my finger on the needle my mother gave me. The   
blood flowed out. It was black.  
The yasha lives.  
This is my body and soul.  
  
["Happy birthday, Kasumi."]  
["Thank you, Akane."]  
["Where're you gonna go now, one-san? College,   
maybe? I heard that your exam scores were good enough   
to get you into Tokyo U."]  
["Nabiki! Teasing isn't nice. You know I need to take   
care of Father. I can't just leave him alone and run off to   
college."]  
Teasing. Nabiki always teases. Kasumi . . . she's the one   
who showed me the eighteenth. She's the one who told   
me about the lock on the door. The choice of freedom.  
  
"What is parenthood?"  
  
"Living, loving and caring."  
  
"What is childhood?"  
  
"Seeing, exploring and understanding."  
  
The meaning of names is a rather interesting thing to   
ponder. Don't get me wrong, though. It's not interesting   
because a lot of names have interesting meanings,   
though that *is* part of it. It's interesting because people   
rarely ever think about the meanings of names beyond   
face value.  
  
Here's one.  
  
"To" - East.  
"Fu" - Wind.  
  
East Wind?  
  
Or take the name Tendo, for example. It's made up of the   
two kanji that mean "sky" and "path," respectively. Of   
course, like most kanji and Chinese characters, both   
"ten" and "do" have their own various meanings beyond   
"sky" and "path."  
  
"Ten" is the sky and everything about it. It means   
"heaven," it means "God," and, if taken on a more   
metaphoric level, it means "what is right," or "what is   
natural." "What has been there from the start."  
  
As for "do," it's the same character the Chinese who   
invented it use for Tao, meaning the "way" and   
everything that may be thought of as a "way."  
  
The Path of the Sky?  
  
The Way of Heaven?  
  
Yes, both are meanings the name Tendo can take on.  
  
It can also mean "the way of nature," "the way things   
have been from the start," "the way things should be," or   
of course, "the natural law."  
  
The natural law . . .  
  
"There it is, Prometheus. Anything else?"  
  
"I've played my trump. Have you played yours?"  
  
"The Butt of it, yes. A slight change here . . ."  
  
You cannot change the way of nature. Water is the   
source of life, and water flows in only one direction.  
  
Down.  
  
the madness has claimed me static is flowing into my   
eyes my ears and out through the jagged maw in the   
neither regions of gray at the edge of the darkness that is   
the blizzard the sound is static  
  
static electricity I hear with my eyes and my tongue and   
it tastes wonderfully like the thing that claims my heart   
for the night and the cold they say the presence of the   
dead comes with coldness  
  
womanizing pervert hugging shampoo and eating her   
food why can't you eat my food is my cooking really that   
bad  
  
i try i really do ive learned how to make curry taste good  
  
why why why please i just want to be nice to you why   
do you hafta be a baka why are you so good at making   
me mad why do you hafta do all those stupid things why   
cant you understand me why do you hafta be a   
womanizing pervert why do you change into a girl  
  
Why?  
  
how come you can learn all those weird special attacks   
and cow home can you nearly fall these wired special   
antics  
  
why are you what you are why can you open the door its   
a door that i cannot seen but i want to cuz its what i   
need to do to be like you  
  
why did you go on that trip to get better but youre the   
best but im not i need to become the best and the training   
trip is what is going to make me become what i want to   
for me on the other hand, it's the Eighteen that will be   
the door that will open when i become the best open the   
door close the world  
  
open the door for when it is open I shall see through the   
window and look at the sky and then ill be free  
  
smile for you are free yet i am not i want to be free just   
like you are right now you are my key to freedom you   
are my window the final door haha you mist me  
  
do what you want to do i feel sad i feel mad I'm falling   
save me im going to die  
  
Falling . . .  
  
Falling . . .  
  
Falling . . .  
  
Clouds, wind, mist, rain, tears, blue sky, and the sun . . .  
  
Falling . . .  
  
The sky is falling down . . .  
  
blue sky sky blue its all the same to me so long as i can   
become free like you i need the Eighteen  
  
three and three is nine and two is Eighteen and two is   
thirtysix and three is one hundred and eight one hundred   
and eight sins and evil thoughts and deeds done on new   
years eve cuz the night ends and the day begins anew   
like they said  
  
the darkest hour is that before dawn like they said in that   
video game what was it called ghost in the shell that isn't   
out and I haven't played yet just like me for i am dead   
but i am alive the walking dead a ghost and the shell that   
is my body is all that is left of me in this dark dark world   
the darkest hour is that before dawn and when the   
darkness becomes the darkest the light shall come and i   
shall be free  
  
the darkness is coming i see the door close the door open   
the next or was that world from what anime was it again   
something on wowow or was it of tokyo television   
that i never watched because it wont be on for a few   
years something about the sound of bells or was it laying   
down serial numbers experiments ideas freedom things  
  
saotome ranma you are the one who is free and he who   
shall be chained because you are who you are by death   
and the chains of sin that is hell for i am the beast that is   
called the dragon and has led the world astray in the   
book of revelations by a heretic called saint john the   
divine and in a novel by a chinese author named gu long  
  
This is all mumbo-jumbo and wanting to be interesting   
and freezing cold, is it? Threads and masturbation? No.  
  
"And the dragon stood on the shore of the sea. And I saw   
a beast coming out of the sea. She had ten horns and   
seven heads, with ten crowns on her horns, and on each   
head a blasphemous name."  
  
"The beast I saw resembled a leopard, but had feet like   
those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion. The   
dragon gave the beast her power and her throne and   
great authority."  
  
"One of the heads of the beast seemed to have had a fatal   
wound, but the fatal wound had been healed. The whole   
world was astonished and followed the beast."  
  
- Revelation of John, 13:1-13:3.  
  
The Dragon and the Chimera. Guardians of the dream.  
  
{I can't do this this isn't right what would Kasumi think?   
Kasumi. Bitch. Stupid friggin bitch that doesn't   
understand what it is she has. close the world  
txen eht nepo}  
  
{It's already happened I've turned into a monster and I   
love it cuz it feels so great to eat the dead they are my   
food clothes home water bed lovers and dogs cuz three is   
one and one is three.}  
  
{Worthy am I not worthy I know more than you you   
stupid bitch son of a friggin bastard good for nothing   
tomboy pervert idiot baka. I'm saying whatever you   
think I'm saying. You interpret. Puns are intentional.   
Jokes are mine. Stupid Bitch. Whore good for nothing   
I'm a whore now and it'syou're your friggin fault cuz if it   
weren't for you I wouldn't enjoy blood so much you   
defiled me you bitch son of a.}  
  
{I want you. I need you. But . . . you don't seem to   
understand . . . a shame. You seemed an honest . . .}  
  
{If it weren't for you I'd be free I'd be good a little nice   
little cute virgin that's really nice and doesn't mess   
around with dead bodies that I like doing cuz I'm a blood   
drinking whore.}  
  
{When I'm eighteen I'll be free and I'll be nice like   
Kasumi or I would have been if you bastard bitch hadn't   
stepped into my friggin life you're going to die now   
you'll be the eighteenth of my little collection until I   
become heir to happosai the little not so perverted as me   
freak I am the most disgusting person but I love it cuz it   
feels good to be what I've always never wanted don't   
want to be.}  
  
{Bitch you don't know what you have and how much I   
used to still want it!!! cuz you're a stupid bitch!}  
  
{You bastard bitch Ranma baka will be the eighteenth   
birthday years old days I will be the eighteenth you are   
the eighteenth bronze dead monk corpse that is here in   
the Nekohanten where that bitch Shampoo lives but   
doesn't anymore cuz this is my nest lair home morgue   
tomb death circle of life.}  
  
{Fucking old bat bitch why'd she do this fucking evil   
stupid damn screwed thing to me called the Blizzard? I   
love her for it.}  
  
{You are the eighteenth eighteen one plus seventeen   
eight and ten.}  
  
Gu - the character means "ancient."   
Long - the character means "dragon."  
Gu Long - "ancient dragon."  
Gu Long - Cologne?  
  
In the old days, people used to think that the sky was a   
huge dome. They thought that if they went high enough,   
or far enough across the sea, they would eventually   
reach it.   
  
They thought that mists were clouds that came down to   
the earth when the dome of the sky was lowered, and   
that when mists were around, you could touch the sky if   
you just reached up high enough.  
  
Mists were respected.  
  
And feared.  
  
And everyone knew one thing. You should never walk in   
the mist. Never. Why? Cause you might touch the sky by   
accident.  
  
Nobody should ever touch the sky by accident. You go   
mad if you do.  
  
For on the other side of the dome of the sky . . .  
  
. . . is Heaven.  
  
And they used to say that harmless old crazies all have a   
little piece of Heaven in them. Now you know why . . .  
  
Where am I? I'm lost. Help, Ryouga. Help. Ranma . . .   
Where are you Ranma? Where did you go? Why have   
you gone? Why are you coming back? Why are you   
going to die?  
  
Because of him, me. I am alone, in the shadow of   
myself. I am not lost. I am dead. The one who was me is   
no more. Only a yasha remains.  
  
Hate. Hate. Him. Don't think about him.  
  
"It hurts . . . no!!"  
  
I can't do this. What would Kasumi think? But it no   
longer matters. She is no longer my sister. I have been   
defiled. I am no longer a virgin.  
  
"Get away from me! I haven't done anything to you!"  
  
How hard is it to get someone to understand you?  
  
"Get away!! Don't come near me! I'm warning you!"  
  
Understanding. It's perhaps the hardest task to achieve in   
the world.  
  
"My leg! Someone help me! Please! Anyone!"  
  
How can I tell you? How can I make you understand?  
  
"No, please! Don't hurt me!"  
  
Words aren't enough. Actions only do half the job. What   
is it that I can do to make you understand me? What is   
the language that I need to speak? What is the thing I   
have to do? How can I say this?  
  
"Mommy!"  
  
I'm insane, aren't I? I'm not one person anymore. That I   
am alone is a lie. I am not alone. I have myselves to keep   
me company. I am not one.   
  
"I . . . please, let me go . . ."  
  
Humans are all interconnected. No man is an island.   
But . . . are the connections really enough for one person   
to understand another? Can you be me? Can you hear the   
screams that echo in my heartbeats? Can you see through   
the blood that stains my eyes?  
  
You hafta make the connection.  
  
"I . . ."  
  
Can you understand me? I want you to know how I feel.   
I want you to feel my joys and my pains. Everything   
about me.  
  
"Please! I haven't done anything to you!"  
  
Honesty. I love you . . . Ranma. I want you to know, I   
want you to see into my being. I want you to see the   
essence of my soul.  
  
"No, don't!"  
  
Don't leave me. Please, I beg you. Don't leave me, Why   
can't we all just live peacefully and be happy? Why? All   
I ever wanted was for you to understand me. Have I   
driven you away? Did I do it? Am I the reason? Don't   
leave me!  
  
"Leave me alone, you monster!!"  
  
Can you understand me, Ranma? Can you understand   
what it's like? Can you understand the pain of losing a   
mother? . . . And losing a sister? . . . And losing . . . you.   
Losing to you. I don't want to lose. Do I want to win?  
  
"You're the Yasha?!"  
  
Look into my eyes, Ranma. See me for what I am. See   
me for why I want you. Maybe then, you'll understand   
me. Maybe then, I'll understand you. Maybe then . . .   
Maybe then, the window will be open. Maybe . . .  
  
"Let me go!!"  
  
Understand me. Look through the glass. Open the   
window. See the sky.  
  
"Why? Why are you doing this to me?!"  
  
The blue, blue sky, empty of clouds, empty of mist,   
empty of wind. See the sun.  
  
"I hate you!! You fucking monster!"  
  
Do you understand what it's like to be stuck in the   
never-ending Blizzard? Do you know what it's like to   
be raped a million times by a dark reflection of yourself?   
By another you? To be penetrated by the darkness of the   
night? The darkness that is the very fabric of the thing I   
used to so innocently call Fear? Do you? Do you?  
  
Saotome Ranma. I love you. I wish I could understand   
you.  
  
1 . . . It's so cold . . .  
2 . . . I need something warm to wear . . .  
3 . . . Something nice . . .  
4 . . . Something soft . . .  
5 . . . Where am I . . .  
6 . . . I don't know . . .  
7 . . . It's so cold . . . why is it so cold? Four . . .  
8 . . . I think I'm freezing to death . . .  
9 . . . I wanna sleep . . .  
10 . . . The numbness spreads . . .  
11 . . . The shawl of red that is my blanket . . .  
12 . . . I must remain awake . . .  
13 . . . I shall be crucified on a cross of ice . . .  
14 . . . A frozen waste . . .  
15 . . . I'm tired, and cold, and hungry . . .  
16 . . . I need to hunt . . .  
17 . . . I need a prey to hunt. Eighteen . . .  
18 . . . Humanity.  
  
A Chinese martial arts novel by the classic author Gu   
Long (a short man with a short life, lots of emotions, and   
all the imagination in the world). A man with four faces,   
four masks. The one who tells the stories. Some of them   
are true.  
  
Shi.  
  
Death? Four? Happiness?  
  
Happiness.  
  
Happiness. The word that characterizes the lord of the   
yasha. I have been born unto it. I am no longer who I   
used to be. Rebirth.  
  
Happiness. The feeling that comes at the climax, at the   
orgasm that accompanies the sweet taste of blood, that   
continues forever into the light of eternity. Happiness of   
being free. Happiness of knowing what I truly am. The   
best of the best.  
  
Such is His power.  
  
Happiness and glee at the pain of my prey. Blood is the   
red of the earth, and the red of my heart. Read my mind.  
  
Nu.  
  
Anger. Anger at what I was. Anger at the weak little girl   
who knew nothing.  
  
Anger at what I am now. Anger at the only monster that   
is more disgusting that Happosai. Anger at what this   
monster has done to seventeen innocent people. Anger   
that the fact that the monster is me.  
  
Anger at Ranma for leaving us to train. Anger at all the   
people that don't understand me and my feelings.   
Hatehatehatehatehatehate. Damn you! Why can't you   
understand?  
  
I have raped myself.  
  
You. You are the source of chaos. You are the catalyst.   
You are the instigator of confusion. Why do you do it?   
Why? Why does everyone have to pay for your actions?   
Why can't . . . why can't you just control yourself?  
  
Anger at Ukyou, for being Ranma's friend. At Shampoo,   
for being better than me in every way except sensibility.   
Anger at Ranma's father, for being a bastard. Anger at   
Ranma, for being a dope. Anger at Ryouga, for being   
lost.  
  
Anger . . . at Kasumi, for understanding, but failing to   
understand . . . I envy her. Happy eighteenth birthday.  
  
She's the one who turned the freedom down. The one   
who was above the freedom, so far above that she didn't   
need it.  
  
Hate. I hate her for that. Why did she do it? Doesn't she   
understand?  
  
Mist.  
  
. . . at Tofu, for being there, but not being there.  
  
Wind.  
  
Ai.  
  
That which the beast calls at the heart of the world.   
Love? I? Pain?  
  
Pain.  
  
Pain. Regret. Sadness. The feeling that comes of   
comprehending the inhumanity of my actions, the   
vileness of the lusts that currently possess me. The   
feeling that comes of understanding that I will never   
fully understand it ever again.  
  
Pain that I have become like this.  
  
Why have I become like this? Why? What have I done to   
deserve this? Two days ago, I was just a normal girl.   
Now, that girl is dead. Where has she gone? Is she me?   
Is she still even within me? I hate myself. I hate the way   
I am right now.  
  
Pain that I must remain this way until I kill Ranma. Pain   
that I must kill Ranma. Pain that I can't fully understand   
why I'm going to kill Ranma. Pain that I know Ranma   
will come.  
  
Do you understand, Ranma? Do you? Do you truly and   
absolutely understand me? Understand my pain?  
  
Why can't everything just be alright? Why? Why can't   
you understand me? I want you to. I want you to know. I   
want you to live through what I have. I want you to   
understand why I've made the choices I have . . .  
  
I want you to know what kind of monster I've become. I   
want you to know what drives the monster . . . I don't   
want to live anymore . . . I don't want to die.  
  
And pain that he can't win. I'm the best of the best. Pain.  
  
Luh.  
  
The other happiness. The short-termed one. The one that   
ends at the end of the orgasm, doesn't go on. Pleasure.  
  
I enjoy this. I truly do. I enjoy this a lot . . .  
  
Shi, Happiness of the freedom she gave me; Nu, Anger   
that she defiled me; Ai, Sadness at what I am; Luh, the   
Pleasure of killing. (Who is she?)  
  
Eyes are the windows of the soul. No window is ever   
fully open. There's always glass. You have to be content   
with looking through the glass. Once the glass is broken,   
the person is no more. Neither is the observer.  
  
That is what prevents understanding. The glass on the   
windows of the soul.  
  
Is there a way to open the window? Is there a way to   
remove the glass without breaking it? Is there a way I   
can get you to understand me? Is there a way I can do it   
without destroying who I am? Is there a way you will not   
combine with my essence?  
  
This is the tale of many failures.   
Saotome Ranma, number eighteen.  
  
***  
12/06/1995  
[Ranma - the machine]  
  
"Do you see the points?" asked the voice in the dark.  
  
Is this really what I want?  
  
"Yes," answered Ranma, eyes closed.  
  
Yes. I cannot imagine life without emotions. It'd be   
pointless. I would have no reason to live.  
  
"What are they?"  
  
And yet, I would not be able to die. I wouldn't allow   
myself, for it takes emotions to be able to do that.  
  
"Each is a nexus of my soul."  
  
By destroying the pressure points necessary to cause the   
Blizzard, I would be forever free of fears of falling into   
it.  
  
But . . .  
  
"Good, good. Now, are you willing to pay the price?"  
  
Am I willing to pay the price?   
  
Pressure points dissipate like wind and mist after a   
storm when a person gains control of their functions.   
The only difference is, they don't come back. Most of   
mine have already disappeared.  
  
These . . .   
  
If I take control of these functions, I will control my   
emotions. But then . . .  
  
But then I'll have to simulate every one.  
  
Emotions are a flaw. Cologne taught me that. They cause   
people to do things irrationally, lose control . . .  
  
I want to control my emotions. I don't want to lose them.  
  
Am I flawed?  
  
No.  
  
I am not. I am not flawed. I am whole and complete. It's   
the self-imposed burning away of emotions that makes a   
person flawed. Only then would a person be incomplete.  
  
Is this what I really want?  
  
"Ranma? Answer me."  
  
Yes. No. I don't know. Is this what I really want?  
  
"Ranma."  
  
"Yes."  
  
***  
12/21/2011  
[the mother]  
  
" . . . and the Holy Person took the girl that the Samurai   
knew from his village."  
  
"Why'd she do that?"  
  
"Because, Shinta-chan, the Holy Person thought that her   
presence would hinder the Samurai's training."  
  
"What does hinder mean?"  
  
"Slow down. You know, like the brakes on the bicycle   
slow it down? Well, the Holy Person thought that the   
girl would slow the Samurai down, so she took her   
away."  
  
"How would the girl slow the Samurai down?"  
  
"She wouldn't, actually. The Samurai didn't actually   
know her that well, but the Holy Person thought that he   
was in love with her. If he really was in love, it would   
have taken his attention away from the training."  
  
"Nothing bad happened to the girl, right?"  
  
The mother hesitated for a moment, as if she had   
forgotten the story.  
  
"No, nothing bad. The Holy Person wouldn't do anything   
bad to anyone."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Well? Hmm . . . Because she was a Holy Person."  
  
"Oh."  
  
***  
12/06/1995  
[Kasumi - the mist]  
  
"Unmanly coward! The stupid boy has escaped from his   
training. No man would do that!"  
  
Nabiki didn't notice the shadow that appeared behind her   
as she looked into her sister's room. She didn't notice as   
it moved beside her, and then in front of her. She didn't   
notice when it came into plain sight.  
  
"Noooooo! The schools will never be joined now!"  
  
"Father, please stop crying."  
  
It wasn't because she was too caught up in emotions to   
notice. She knew that Ranma would return to save   
Akane. He always did.  
  
"Where is the boy anyway?"  
  
"Cologne seems to think he returned here."  
  
But where was he? He had left months ago to train with   
Cologne. From the contents of the letter, it was obvious   
he'd parted with her somewhere along the path. Where   
was he now? Why did Cologne think that he had   
returned here?  
  
"My little baby's gone! Noooooo!"  
  
Nabiki didn't notice the shadow reading the letter. She   
didn't notice the tear that dropped into debris.  
  
And then the shadow was gone.  
  
***  
  
deus ex machina  
Mist is welcome. So are Seas.  
  
New Latin,: a god from a machine   
(translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs)  
  
1) a god introduced by means of a crane in ancient Greek   
and Roman drama to decide the final outcome  
  
2) a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears   
or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides   
a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty  
  
Striving to leave the wilderness  
You become part of what's wild.  
  
Striving to cease grasping  
Is in itself grasping.  
  
How does one gain control beyond desire?  
  
***  
Chapter III: Blizzard  
"The third part of the Soul of Ice training is the   
acceptance of the Blizzard Fist. This is not a technique   
to be learned. The Blizzard Fist is a pressure point   
attack applied by the teacher to the student. If successful,   
the student will be locked in her own mind with her   
greatest fears. She will remain within this state until all   
of her emotions are burnt away, or until she goes mad.   
Both of these will allow to student to disrupt her ki flow   
and break out of the effects of the technique. The   
Blizzard Fist can only be applied safely after a student   
has gained control of the mind the Wind and Mist   
technique gives. Only then will the student be able to   
retain her sanity . . ."  
  
***  
12/21/2011  
[the mother]  
  
"And the Holy Person said to the Samurai, 'This is the   
third part of your training.'"  
  
"How many are there?"  
  
"Only four, Shinta-chan."  
  
"So what was the third part?"  
  
"The Holy Person challenged the Samurai to a fight to   
the death."  
  
"Oooh, that's bad! But no-one can beat the Samurai,   
right?"  
  
"Right."  
  
"He didn't kill the Holy Person, did he?"  
  
The mother smiled.  
  
"No. He didn't."  
  
The child didn't notice the tinge of sadness in his   
mother's eyes.  
  
***  
12/06/1995  
  
To Saotome Ranma:  
If you wish to see the girl unharmed, you know where to   
find me. We will continue your training. It is a matter of   
honor.  
  
Cologne  
  
***  
12/06/1995  
[Ranma - the machine]  
  
"The cat is in you now?" asked the voice in the dark.  
  
Yes.  
  
"That was what you just used, right?"  
  
Yes.  
  
"You have something to thank your father for, then. See,   
he's not that big a bastard. None of my students could   
ever be. Even if they did bury me in that cave."  
  
It is a burden. And yes, he is a bastard. That is the only   
legacy you have.  
  
"Ranma, my boy, I'm hurt! How could you say such a   
thing to your dear old master?"  
  
Because you're turning me into a bastard?  
  
"Are you implying that I'm not training you well   
enough?"  
  
No. If I were my father's heir, I wouldn't be learning this   
technique.  
  
"Oh . . . hey, boy, I betcha you don't know this."  
  
What is it that I don't know?  
  
"You're talking like Cologne."  
  
A pause.  
  
No I ain't.  
  
Another pause.  
  
"Whatever you say . . . So, what'd Cologne's letter say?"  
  
That I am to meet her at the Nekohanten in two days.   
She has captured Akane, and is holding her there.  
  
"You're not worried?"  
  
No. I will be there in two days.  
  
"You don't think she'd do anything to Akane, right?"  
  
It is not to her benefit.  
  
"Ahh, but does *she* know that?"  
  
I . . . She has to. She's the master of the Soul of Ice.   
  
"Okay . . ."  
  
Should I be worried?  
  
"Don't you know?"  
  
No. I haven't learned the appropriate uses of each   
emotion yet. It used to be so easy. Instinct, almost; I   
never thought about it. Now . . . I don't know.   
  
"What are you going to do?"  
  
I'm going to face Cologne and get Akane back. After I   
do that, I'll . . .  
  
"Yes?"  
  
I have to end this chaos. I think I know a way.  
  
***  
12/06/1995  
  
To whom it may concern,  
You are cordially invited to the Resolution of Saotome   
Ranma, at 9:00 AM on December 8th, the Nekohanten.  
  
Sincerely,  
Saotome Ranma   
  
***  
12/07/1995  
[Ranma - the machine]  
  
"Feel it, boy. Feel it all," said the voice in the dark.  
  
blank  
  
"Use a focus. Take, like . . . Hmm, I'd say love, but   
you're not the type. How about hate?"  
  
hatred  
  
"Feel the hate. Feel it."  
  
Ihatemyfatherthatfrigginsonofabitchthateatsmyfoodandg  
otmeengagedwithallofthesecrazywomenwhoIhatebecaus  
etheymakemylifesohardandconfusingandIreallycan'tstan  
ditanymorecuzIfeellikeI'mgonnaexplodeandnottomentio  
nIturnintoastupidgirlthatdoesn'tknowhowtobearealboy  
  
"Don't overdo it. You'll waste your energies."  
  
I hate . . . I hate . . . I hate . . .  
  
"Don't turn it down too low. Can you control it?"  
  
I . . . I don't really hate my father. sure, he's a right   
bastard, but he made me what I am. I can't hate him for   
that because I can't really hate what I am. I . . .   
  
"Good," said the voice. "A new record. Twenty seconds   
to tone it down."  
  
I've had practice.  
  
"Is that so?"  
  
I had to deal with the nekoken in Wind and Mist.  
  
"Hmm . . . More training to go."  
  
Yes.  
  
*  
  
3  
-- The Just --  
Ono Tofu & Tendo Kasumi  
  
***  
06/28/1990  
[Tofu - the wind]  
  
"I'm . . . very sorry, Tendo-sensei."  
  
Tofu?  
  
"Why? Why are you doing this to us?" said her father,   
voice full of tears. "Why are you leaving us behind?"  
  
Nabiki slid herself to the crack between the sliding   
doors, just enough so she could look in. What she saw   
confirmed her suspicions.  
  
"I just . . . just can't do what you want. My father wants   
me to take over the clinic . . . It's my duty."  
  
"But you're my best student," he sobbed. "I wanted you   
to be my heir."  
  
"But I can't! I'm . . . I . . ."  
  
"What about my daughter?"  
  
"I love her, but . . . I don't know if she likes me or not.   
She's really nice to me, but . . . she's like that with   
everyone."  
  
"You can't leave us like this!"  
  
"I . . . can't support Kasumi. My family's too poor."  
  
"You'll have the dojo. You can teach classes."  
  
"But . . . Tendo-sensei, I really can't imagine that in my   
future."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I . . . martial arts is just a hobby to me. I didn't want to   
dedicate my life to it when I started. I don't want to do it   
now. I want to help people. As a doctor, I can do that."  
  
"But you said you loved Kasumi."  
  
"I do . . . I really do, Tendo-sensei."  
  
"Won't you even consider her feelings?"  
  
"I . . . I'm sorry, Tendo-sensei. I promise I'll come back   
for her one day. I'll be there for her when she needs me."  
  
With that, Tofu kneeled and bowed, his forehead   
touching the tatami.  
  
Nabiki cried silently for her sister.  
  
***  
07/04/1995  
[Kasumi - the mist]  
  
Across the city, there's another girl with two sisters and   
a father and a mother who's gone away, and she has   
dreams she wants to make into reality. And she will.  
  
There's a world out there I haven't seen, where bread   
comes in plastic bags marked with the flavor they are,   
and you can buy thirty-two different types of   
bubblegum. Girls go out, dress nicely, and have fun   
shopping together.   
  
And there's a place where there is no free space for   
anything, and everyone walks for four or five miles   
every day, and things are really expensive, and smoke is   
everywhere. There's men waiting on trains to feel up   
unprotected women, and there's gangs of teenagers   
willing to extort money with violence.  
  
And that girl? She's going to go out into that terrible   
world, and she's going be free and happy.  
  
She's not me. I don't want to be her.  
  
There are times when my sister looks at me when she   
thinks I'm not paying any attention. It's a sort of a sad   
look. I think I know what she's thinking. She's thinking   
about what I've given up for her and Akane.  
  
She doesn't understand, not really. She thinks it's sad that   
I've deprived myself of the joys of life to give them a   
chance at a normal childhood. It's not true.   
  
I haven't deprived myself of anything. I'm living life as I   
want to live it. I'm doing what I want to do. It's not a   
duty. It's simply the way things should be.  
  
Someday, when I've finished all that is needed to be   
done, I'll leave this place, and go out. I'll find out what   
my true destiny is then.  
  
For now, I am satisfied. Life is good. My sisters have   
turned out well. Father is happy. I'm proud of what I've   
accomplished.   
  
Such is the nature of joy.  
  
***  
  
There's always three. It doesn't matter what they look   
like, and they don't really need names. They're always   
there.  
  
Course, they're different from each other; if they were   
the same, who could tell them apart? Hafta be different.   
They have to be different from each other. It's part of   
who they are.  
  
But . . .  
  
Who are they, then?  
  
Ha. Caught 'ya. They don't have names, see.  
  
Seriously, though. Their identities are simple. The first is   
the one who holds the thread and pulls it out. The second   
measures, and the third one cuts. That's who they are and   
what they are. Past, present, and future.  
  
You *could* always view them as a metaphor. Pulling   
the thread, for example, might be viewed as a symbol of   
nurturing and providing.  
  
But . . . that would be misleading, to say the least. They   
do exist, and they do so in a very real sense. They simply   
don't exist embodied and personified. They're   
everywhere, and are present in anyone.  
  
Hundreds of years ago, they were three men, bound to   
each other by a blood oath born of an agreement made in   
a peach grove. Go back a thousand, and they were three   
woman who tended a tree. Yet another, perhaps, and they   
would have been known as the kindly ones, the walkers   
of the mist.   
  
Every age envisions them in a different form. Only one   
thing's always the same.  
  
The first one draws the thread of life . . .  
  
The second measures and calculates . . .  
  
And the third . . . the youngest . . . she draws the knife   
and cuts . . .  
  
***  
07/04/1995  
[Tofu - the wind]  
  
Mrs. Yamazaki, aged seventy-eight. A nice old lady who   
spends most her time taking care of her house.   
Amazingly healthy.  
  
Others would probably be annoyed with her.   
  
"Lady," they'd say, "you're healthier than most   
twenty-year-olds. You really don't need a check-up every   
two weeks."  
  
And then she'd reply, "At my age, you never know."  
  
And she'd be right. Old people tend to be. Either that, or   
they're being stubborn. Most times, it's hard to tell the   
difference.  
  
But, I'm wandering here. I was saying . . . I like my   
job . . .  
  
I *like* working with her, her and all of my other   
regulars. She chats with me while I do my thing, tells me   
jokes and gossip and whatnot. And when I'm done, she   
smiles this really nice smile. I feel right. This is what I   
should be doing.  
  
I seem to remember that, in the composition classes I   
took back in high school, the instructors would always   
tell me to "show and not tell." It's vital, they said, that a   
writer is able to demonstrate a concept or an emotion   
without having to simply resort to telling what he thinks   
to the reader. It's a matter of skill, they said.  
  
At the time, the concept was beyond me. I had no   
knowledge of the intricacies of literature, and   
consequently, my score suffered.   
  
Literary masturbation, I'd call it. Writing to see how well   
you can write . . . simply for pleasure. The most fun   
anyone can have by themselves, says Pratchett, the   
interesting writer that he is . . .  
  
Now, years later, I find myself wishing I'd studied a little   
harder. Maybe I can retake the class in night school?   
Nah . . . I don't need it that bad. I simply wish . . .  
  
I wish I could tell someone else of my joy. I wish I could   
describe the smile I get for what it is.  
  
I *can* describe it. Just not very well. It's not a lover's   
smile. Me being in love with an old lady like her just   
isn't right. It's not simply a happy smile, because she's   
obviously not simply happy. Dare I say that, in ignorance   
of the concept of modesty, she's thankful? Getting a little   
arrogant there, I am. But . . .  
  
Yes. And I feel that in guessing as such, I'm justified.  
  
And yet, I still fail to describe the smile. It's like . . .   
sunlight compressed, and the literal brightness replaced   
with the brightness of emotion . . .  
  
Chiropractice is worth the low pay.  
  
Such is the nature of joy.  
  
***  
12/07/1995  
[Tofu - the wind]  
  
[And on the news tonight, the Nerima Yasha strikes yet   
again. The body count is up to fifteen, and the killer is   
still on the loose. Police officials state that pedestrians   
should be especially careful tonight . . .]  
  
Tofu ignored the television and concentrated on finding   
the correct place of the old lady's pain.  
  
"You know, Tofu-sensei. You shouldn't really be worried   
about my safety. You should really try to protect that   
young lady of yours. I mean, with the Yasha wandering   
about and everything . . ." The old lady turned her head   
and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.  
  
[ . . . seems to strike males and females indiscriminately.   
The Yasha engages in violent sexual acts before letting   
the victim . . .]  
  
"She's a pretty little thing, that girl. You just make sure   
she's safe and sound. You don't want some pervert like   
the Yasha snatching her away, now do you?"  
  
"Tanaka-san --"  
  
['I saw the Yasha on that bridge, right over there. The   
screaming really scared me, and I called the police   
immediately.' . . .]  
  
"Oh, you don't have to thank me for giving you some   
advice. OW!"  
  
"There, that should do it."  
  
"A bit lighter next time, Tofu-sensei. My old bones aren't   
what they were."  
  
"Yes, Tanaka-san."  
  
***  
[December 7, 1995]  
  
[Good morning, Tofu-sensei. Did you sleep well last   
night? I had a good night's sleep, despite the problems.   
Grandmother Cologne paid us a visit again last night just   
before dinner, and she took Akane with her this time. I   
do hope Akane is alright.]  
  
[Ranma will take care of her, right, Tofu-sensei? He   
always does. Such a nice boy. I hope someone has told   
him about this. Where do you think he's gone?]  
  
[I feel worried about them . . .]  
  
[I . . .]  
  
[I wish I could ask you just to look out for them and tell   
them to come home if you see them. I know it isn't right   
asking you to get involved in something that might be   
dangerous, but . . . I . . .]  
  
[I . . .]  
  
[I wish you were here with me, right now, comforting me   
of my paranoia, Tofu-sensei. It's silly, I know. This   
happens all the time, and Ranma always manages to save   
Akane . . .]  
  
[But . . .]  
  
[But it feels different. It feels like something bad is   
going to happen this time.]  
  
[Ranma's not here for Akane . . .]  
  
[I . . .]  
  
[Help me.]  
  
Nabiki closed the diary.  
  
***  
12/07/1995  
[Tofu - the wind]  
  
Tofu locked the door. There wasn't really anything   
valuable to steal in the clinic, but he liked to do it   
anyway. He felt safer, knowing that nobody would   
touch Betty and his books.  
  
I wonder if Kasumi is safe?  
  
Pause.  
  
Yeah, she wouldn't go out at night. She's definitely safe.   
The Yasha can't get to her at home.  
  
Time to get some dinner.  
  
Tofu felt a presence pass him. He turned and looked   
around. Nothing.  
  
"What was that? The Yasha?"  
  
He shook away the thought.  
  
No, couldn't be. If the Yasha were a martial artist, even   
Ranma would have to be afraid.  
  
He continued down the street to the noodle restaurant he   
knew.  
  
I hope that wasn't the Yasha.  
  
***  
12/07/1995  
[Tofu - the wind]  
  
[ . . . body was found in an alleyway early this   
morning . . . ]  
  
"Hey, Tofu."  
  
"Hi, Kintaro."  
  
[ . . . the left lung was pierced with a knife . . . ]  
  
"So, what are you gonna have today?"  
  
"The regular."  
  
The man smiled and began preparing the noodles. Tofu   
looked up at the television.  
  
Kasumi . . .  
  
"You look worried, Tofu," said the man over the sound   
of the frying oil.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
[Reports show that the Yasha is . . . ]  
  
"Is it that girlfriend of yours?"  
  
"Kintaro -- you know she's not my girlfriend! Stop   
teasing me."  
  
"Yeah, yeah. Say what you want. I know you like her.   
You worried about what the Yasha might do to her?"  
  
"Um, yeah."  
  
[ . . . 'Judging by the sheer strength the Yasha   
demonstrates, I'd say it's a man. Probably has a wide   
frame.' . . .]  
  
"And her brave Doctor Tofu will be there to save her,   
right?"  
  
"I don't know if I'd be up to it."  
  
"Ha. I remember you used practice judo a few years   
back. Can't be that rusty. It's like learning how to ride a   
bike. You never really forget."  
  
"Not judo, Kintaro. The Tendo school."  
  
[ . . . suspicious men . . .]  
  
"Oh, was it? That boy Ranma lives there, right?"  
  
"I dunno. I haven't seen him in a few months."  
  
"Training or something?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
[ . . . Repellants and alarms don't seem to work . . . ]  
  
"Done. Your noodles, Tofu."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
***  
  
IV: Confrontation  
  
Points:  
1) Confrontation will be held as currently arranged by   
the subject.  
2) The invitation of individuals within the subject's   
association will provide a high chance of eliminating   
said association.  
3) In executing the elimination, two goals are achieved.   
First, the subject is alienated from the social ties that   
bind him from completing this process. Second, H's   
process is revealed to the subject as being unbeneficial.   
4) Given that the above goals are achieved, the subject   
will return to complete the process on his own. If not, he   
should be physically weakened enough to be easily   
subdued.  
  
*  
4  
-- The Mezzanine --  
Those who were left behind.  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Nodoka - the sand]  
  
In the house of memories, the clocks tick away without   
abandon, second by second in unison. The sound is not   
unlike the sound made by the falling of sand in an   
hourglass, though it might be said to demonstrate more   
harmony. It is 10:31 PM . . . ten seconds . . . twenty   
seconds . . . thirty seconds . . . forty seconds . . . fifty   
seconds . . . It is 10:32 PM . . . A slip of paper is placed   
gently on to a table . . .  
  
There is a game being played, and it continues into the   
night. It will continue in the darkness, even as faint   
dreams begin their waltzes hand in hand with the   
shadows of the past. It will continue in the morning,   
when the dancers retreat back into the dark recesses of   
the house. It will continue at noon, and in the afternoon,   
and in the coming evening.  
  
The game is not one that lasts mere minutes. Hours are   
not enough. Neither are days. This game lasts years and   
decades.  
  
The game has a name: Waiting.  
  
On a futon in the center of a dustless room, a woman lies   
open-eyed, staring at the lightless bulbs on her ceiling.   
She has done so every night for the past seventeen years,   
and she knows every crack in the wood above her.   
Sometimes, tears blur her vision.  
  
Saotome Nodoka waits.  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Tofu - the wind]  
  
[ . . . This morning, the bodies of the seventeen Yasha   
victims were removed from the Nerima District Morgue   
by an unknown person. Police suspect that it may have   
been the Yasha himself. Murders have ceased . . .]  
  
Tofu turned the television off absently while staring at   
the card Ranma had put into his mailbox.  
  
"I'm invited?" he asked no one in particular.  
  
"What is it, Tofu-sensei?" asked one of the old men in   
the waiting room.  
  
"Oh, it's nothing. It seems that a friend of mine has   
invited me to a homecoming party of some sort. Nine   
o'clock today. You know, Saotome Ranma?"  
  
"Saotome, Saotome . . . It's not that boy martial artist, is   
it?"  
  
Tofu nodded.  
  
"The one and the same."  
  
"From what I've heard, the boy is bad business. You'd be   
doing your best to stay away from him."  
  
"He's not *that* bad, Obayashi-san. It's rarely ever his   
fault things happen to him."  
  
Tofu looked up at his clock. Eight twenty-seven. About   
half an hour left. He could probably handle another   
patient before he had to close up. He looked back at   
Obayashi.  
  
"So, Obayashi-san. How's that knee of yours?"  
  
***  
  
deus ex machina  
Mist is welcome. So are Seas.  
  
New Latin,: a god from a machine   
(translation of Greek: theos ek mEchanEs)  
  
1) a god introduced by means of a crane in ancient Greek   
and Roman drama to decide the final outcome  
  
2) a person or thing (as in fiction or drama) that appears   
or is introduced suddenly and unexpectedly and provides   
a contrived solution to an apparently insoluble difficulty  
  
Striving to leave the wilderness  
You become part of what's wild.  
  
Striving to cease grasping  
Is in itself grasping.  
  
How does one gain control beyond desire?  
Open your eyes. The ones in your mind.  
  
***  
Chapter IV: Final Front  
"There is a final test . . . an examination in which the   
master measures the student in her physical skill and   
mental prowess. There is a duel . . ."  
  
***  
  
There is a thought that, upon death, one is punished for   
his failings in life. One who is wasteful of food, for   
example, is eternally hungry upon dying.  
  
There is a name for the hungry ghost, and the name is   
gaki. And in the night, and in the rain of tears, the gaki   
searches . . .  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Mousse - the blind]  
  
Four months. It's been four entire months since Saotome   
left. I've accomplished absolutely nothing. Nothing at   
all.  
  
Hence the question: What am I doing wrong?  
  
I mean, quite obviously, it's not entirely Saotome's fault.   
Part of it is mine. I don't dare go all out with her. But . . .  
  
Four months! Four months without a single bit of   
improvement in our relationship! Just what gives? It's   
not like I haven't tried. It's ridiculous. It's like Saotome   
has something I don't. It's disgusting watching Shampoo   
pine after somebody who doesn't even *try* to please   
her . . .  
  
I've got one chance to do this. Judging by the language   
used in this note, this is the last chance I'll get before   
something big happens. Saotome's returned. I'm invited   
to his "resolution," whatever that means. I have   
something to ask him, and it's very important.   
  
I'm going home.  
  
***  
  
In the Garden, there are two Fruits. There is the Fruit of   
Knowledge, and the Fruit of Life, and they hang ripe off   
of two opposing branches on the same tree.  
  
It is said that the Fruit of Knowledge is the Fruit of the   
Knowledge of Good and Evil. This is not true. The Fruit   
of Knowledge does not give bearing to such petty things.   
It transcends Good and Evil, for such concepts are   
immaterial and uncertain. The Fruit of Knowledge grants   
knowledge of only one thing, for it is the Fruit of the   
Night, and it is in the Night that the hidden things lurk,   
and all forms are revealed in the Truth of Pure Darkness.   
The Fruit of Knowledge grants Knowledge of the Truth   
and the Whole Truth, and nothing but the Truth.  
  
The Fruit of Life is the Fruit of the Day, the Fruit of what   
is obvious and apparent. It might be supposed that given   
the nature of the Fruit of Knowledge, the Fruit of Life   
would grant the Knowledge of Lies and Sins, but this is   
not the case. The opposite of the Knowledge of the Truth   
is the Knowledge of Innocence, and it is Innocence that   
comes with the birthing of Life. That which is Innocent   
does not know the Truth, and hence, cannot Lie. What is   
obvious and apparent is not always the Truth.  
  
The Truth does not come with Life, for it is impossible   
to live with the Truth. The Truth is painful, and it brings   
suffering.   
  
That is why Truth allows the creation of Lies. They are   
meant to hide the Truth, and protect Life from the harm   
Truth might bring . . .  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Ryouga - the lost]  
  
I don't know where I am or how I got here.  
  
That's normal.  
  
But . . . I've this little piece of paper written in really neat   
handwriting telling me to get somewhere within two   
hours.  
  
Challenge? Maybe. That's normal too.  
  
But Ranma? In neat handwriting?  
  
That's not normal. Something's horribly wrong. Ranma   
did *not* send this note.  
  
I don't know who sent it, or how this person found me in   
the middle of nowhere, but I've gotta get to the old hag's   
place really fast . . .  
  
Something's wrong, and I bet Akane's involved. If   
anything's wrong with her, the honorless bastard's gonna   
pay. Or whoever it is that sent this note.  
  
***  
  
These are the Women of the Evening and the Night.   
These are the daughters of the one who caused the Fall,   
and these are ones who live in the shadow of the Great   
Sin.  
  
And yet, what was the Sin but a desire for the   
Knowledge of the Truth? And what was the Sin but a   
sacrifice that stained the Eater of the Fruit with the   
Darkness of Night, only for the painful Knowledge of   
the Truth?  
  
There is a reason they are called the Women of the   
Night. They, more than any scholar, any priest, or any   
learned man, have the Knowledge of the Truth that lies   
in Darkness. They are the ones who have, first-handed,   
seen the Truth about Life in the shadows of Sin. These   
are the ones who see the pain that is this world and   
everything in it.  
  
They are shunned for this Knowledge, and they are   
shunned for the Lies they spin to protect Humanity from   
this Knowledge.  
  
And of all reasons, they are shunned because they dared   
to say, "I must know."  
  
These are the ones whose tears stain every inch of the   
sky. The Truth is a burden to be carried, and they are the   
ones who carry it.  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Shampoo - the cat]  
  
This morning I received a note telling me to return to the   
place I have called home for the past few months. The   
note was written in my native language, but signed in my   
lover's name, and written formally, in neat handwriting.   
My lover, to my knowledge, does not understand my   
language, and I know he does not write so well. I wonder   
at that.  
  
Great-grandmother had me leave home two days ago,   
telling me she was preparing for a secret ritual. I dared   
not to disobey her, so I complied. Leaving, I went south,   
to the place they call Yokohama. It is clean there, a nice   
place for a vacation, as unexpected as this vacation was.  
  
I did not tell anyone of my destination, not even to   
Mousse or to my Great-grandmother. My lover left with   
my Great-grandmother on a training trip several months   
ago, and Great-grandmother has returned without him. I   
believe he should still be training, for I know he loves   
the Art beyond anything else . . . that thought saddens   
me . . .  
  
But knowing this, I am assured of one thing. My lover,   
of all people, should not know where I spent the past few   
days.  
  
And yet, somehow, in a manner that is still beyond my   
comprehension, someone found me and left me a note. I   
do not believe my lover is the one who left it.   
Great-grandmother would not impersonate him, so it   
cannot be her. Mousse has gone north to visit relatives   
(or so I believe), so it cannot be him either. Who is it?  
  
I am left without conclusion, but I know where I am   
going. I am going home.  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Nabiki - the night]  
  
Hieronymus Bosch.   
  
If you don't know who he is, he's this artist from Venice.   
Died a few hundred years back.   
  
I was saying, Hieronymus Bosch is famous. What for?   
He's famous because his paintings are surreal. I don't   
think there's anything quite like them anywhere. Not   
even Dali comes close.  
  
The thing about his paintings is that they make no sense.   
  
You've got all sorts of people doing oodles of strange,   
dishonorable, and vaguely impossible things, and they're   
all standing together in a single picture. Can you say   
absurd?   
  
Yes, you can.  
  
But that's only if you look at the entire picture. Bosch   
obviously didn't.  
  
Every character in every single one of Bosch's paintings   
has a story, and every story, taken by itself, makes   
perfect sense (with a certain amount of eccentricity).   
Each painting, then, is a result of all these characters   
interacting with each other and coming together, entirely   
by chance. Understandable because they're just people   
living out their lives, yeah? Got places to go, people to   
see . . .  
  
That, my friends, is still so unlikely as to be nearly   
impossible.  
  
Unless, of course, you take into account the fact that   
there's someone in the background making things   
happen.   
  
Like Bosch.   
  
In real life, though, strange people can't coexist as   
peacefully as they do in Bosch's paintings. In real life, if   
you manipulate folks like Bosch did characters, you're   
building yourself a house of cards. You get a little too   
high, and it all comes crashing down on you.  
  
Tower of Babel, like. Can't touch the sky.  
  
Funny I didn't notice it until Akane was taken, but   
someone's gone a little too far in manipulating people.  
  
Who, me? No.   
  
I don't manipulate people, no matter what anybody else   
thinks. I just pressure them and threaten them a bit. It   
doesn't count as manipulation. Manipulation only counts   
if the people being pressured don't even know that   
they're being pressured. My clients know perfectly well   
what's gonna happen to them. Information is money,   
after all.  
  
I get the feeling that what's gonna happen today isn't   
gonna be good for business. But I'm going. It's   
important. My sisters need me.  
  
***  
12/07/1995  
[Konatsu - the shadow]  
  
"She shall not know," he exclaimed to some unseen   
audience standing in the darkness of the alley. "If she   
goes, she'll have nothing but pain . . ."  
  
Paper crumpled slowly . . .  
  
Somewhere, a girl hummed a wordless tune, smiling as   
she prepared what her customers would eat tomorrow.   
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Genma - the gaki]  
  
Right now, I'm thinking about the boy.   
  
Not to mention lunch. And dinner. And a thousand other   
little things, all unrelated. The human mind is a   
wonderful thing.  
  
Mostly, though, I'm thinking about how it all ties in with   
one word.   
  
Hunger.  
  
There was a time, perhaps, when I wasn't always hungry.   
When that was, I can't remember. Probably a long time   
ago. Right now, I don't know . . . Breakfast was tasty, but   
I'm looking forward to lunch.   
  
This desire is ceaseless, without beginning or end. I   
prefer it like this.  
  
It's all about hunger, see? All about craving, all about   
wanting. Hunger is everything. It's what drives people to   
do things. It's the fuel on which the world runs. And   
hunger will never run out, not even if the sky falls. The   
world will go on forever and ever. Things will get done.   
That's the way it works.  
  
Why am I who I am? Hunger. Why is my life the way it   
is? Hunger. Why do articles of clothing occasionally   
vanish in this town? Hunger . . .  
  
And why has the boy accomplished so much in his life?   
  
You know the answer.  
  
The reason is *my* hunger, specifically. My hunger to   
create a great martial artist. My hunger to create a myth.   
My hunger for the boy's well-being . . . Sort of.  
  
I know that's not exactly true . . .  
  
I remember when, as a little boy, I wanted to become a   
great martial artist. My family was poor, and I had to run   
away from home to begin my studies. I went alone,   
without the accompaniment of my father, who I loved   
dearly, for all his failings.   
  
Hunger was with me, even then. I had no money, and I   
had to eat . . .  
  
I got my food, eventually . . . Ultimately, though, my   
childhood was not something I was happy with. Many   
was the time wished I had a second chance . . . I was   
hungry for such a thing.  
  
When Nodoka . . . When she gave birth to the boy, it was   
the happiest day of my life. My hope for a second   
chance, my craving, my hunger, was to be satisfied. In   
the light of the birth, I rejoiced.  
  
And you know what I did? I gave the boy the childhood   
I've always wanted myself.   
  
It is perhaps the hope of all parents that their children   
can have the childhood they didn't have . . . A happier   
childhood than the one they experienced themselves. In   
all the history of the world, never has any parent fully   
succeeded. Nobody is perfect . . .   
  
My appetite is not yet satisfied, for there is one more   
thing I must see before I move on to other things . . . I   
hunger for happiness. Not my own happiness   
necessarily, but hopefully at least the happiness of the   
boy.  
  
I hunger for a last supper . . . The knowledge of whether   
or not my sacrifices have come bear fruit, and of who the   
boy has become. Then, perhaps, my eternal hunger will   
abate.  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Kasumi - the mist]  
  
Kasumi smiled to herself as she looked at the card.   
Ranma knew. He would be there to save Akane. He was   
coming home.  
  
Everything was going to be all right.  
  
***  
  
And one final piece to the puzzle that is this dream . . .  
  
***  
12/08/1995  
[Teaser - the future]  
  
I've seen this fight before.   
  
It's not, you know, deja-vu or whatnot. I wouldn't bother   
to bring this up if it were. I can tell the difference   
between a memory and a vague impression very well,   
thank you very much. I'm not senile yet.  
  
Fall, a hundred and eight years ago, at the side of a lake   
in China. Morning, I recall. A cool, windless morning,   
and a sky without clouds; lands tinted sepia by the   
seasons, and the sky an unflawed virgin blue.   
  
It, to the contrary of what I'd like to say, doesn't seem   
like just yesterday. It seems like a lifetime ago, and that's   
exactly where it belongs. I can't bear to remember most   
parts of the fight, so don't ask. It's too stupid. We were   
young and foolish back then . . . I can't believe how   
foolish we were . . .  
  
She was hot. Really hot. Better than that Shannen   
Doherty wench the young folks seem to like so much.   
Ridiculously hot, you know? Can't really compare any   
of the kids to her, though some come close. Mind you,   
this was before the term "hot" was invented. You get the   
idea. She was the light of my life . . . Never mind that   
she was a rather reluctant light.  
  
I was ambitious. Youth tends to be, in general. I hate to   
admit it, but I was an ugly little bastard. It was common   
sense that I'd never get her, and I understood that in full.   
Didn't prevent me from trying, though. Can't ever give   
up hope. You die if you do.  
  
We fought once previous to the day at the lake, and   
neither of us had come out a clear victor. I'd wanted to   
claim her for my wife. She'd wanted freedom. We   
trained. We sought out hidden masters. We learned   
forbidden arts. When we came together again, both of us   
had lost something.  
  
The fight at the lake was our second and final rematch.  
  
It ends today.  
  
***  
  
To Be Concluded in Soul of Ice: deus ex machina [finale] . . .  
  



End file.
